Stalkers and Scones
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Twoshot. Lonely, bored businessman Vlad Masters came for the pastries and stayed for the cute cashier. Pompous Pep. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

Stalkers and Scones

Twoshot. Lonely, bored businessman Vlad Masters came for the pastries and stayed for the cute cashier. Pompous Pep.

~*oOo*~

**Huh, boy. I think I'm really gonna enjoy writing this one….;) I got the idea for it when I picked up a book called _The Invention of Dessert_. I haven't been able to finish it….it makes my sweet tooth perk up too much. :p _Nothing_ to do with either Vlad or Danny…I just wanted to write about something sweet. **

**Oh, and I wanted to write about desserts, too. *Coughs* My jokes are never funny. **

**It's just a really brief story though, folks. Draw your own conclusions at the ending. *Shrugs***

**Anyhoodle, hope you enjoy. Obviously don't own DP. **

~*oOo*~

* * *

Vlad Masters' personal life had been moved to the backseat when he'd started making the climb uphill in the business world. Oh, he'd have a simple fling here, a one night stand there, but his focus remained almost wholly on his work.

It wasn't as though he got a particular _thrill_ out of the more mundane tasks such as sitting at an office all day, but he quickly learned to appreciate the rush of risk-taking, of success, of profit. The money in his ever-expanding personal account was certainly nice, but it was only a by-product of success in the commercial industry.

Success meant _power_. It meant _respect_ and _recognition_ and dozens of people bending over backwards to please him, despite his humble origins. It meant that doors inaccessible to the vast majority of the public would be held open for him by bowing footmen.

If anything, success meant a solitary glass of wine as Vlad watched the sunset outside of his estate and supposed his existence was validated in some grand way. He was meant to do great things—had set out to do great things, and had accomplished himself far beyond his wildest dreams. There was hardly a man, woman, or child who did not know his name, of his world-renowned company, of his _success_.

Which meant almost nothing to him now. If there was success, fine, if there wasn't, well, there would be success again. The stock market was in a state of near-constant rotation, and with downs invariably came ups, if he worked hard enough.

He didn't especially care anymore, but that's beside the point.

When Vlad was a man of thirty, he woke up one morning to discover that those he once called co-workers—now called employees—were donning wedding bands, hanging up pictures of sweet, cooing babies in their cubicles, and laughing about disastrous vacations with their friends and family. These were people who worked hard, but typically enjoyed spontaneity and worked only so that they might play later on. Cards and flowers appeared on employees' desks on holidays, and men were forever gathered by the water coolers, discussing what gifts were "appropriate" for their wives on given holidays:

"I mean, do I give her chocolate? She'll tell me that I'm trying to make her fat! But I think she's expecting chocolate, I mean, c'mon, it's Valentine's Day—"

"Do I get her a pair of sexy underpants for our anniversary or will that make her annoyed?"

"Her birthday's next week…I'm thinking I might send her some of her favorite flowers at work, hire a sitter for the kids, and take her out for a picnic. That's plenty romantic, right?"

Vlad worked so that he could work later. For three years straight, he had not left the house past seven-thirty, and he had no spouse or family. He was a slave to routine, and every day was very much like the one before it; the only unknown variable in his day was "What do I have for lunch?" But it would almost invariably be the same sandwich he had his secretary pick up at the local bakery down the street, along with the same raspberry scone.

He knew he was in a rut, but he always wound up regretting the times he had tried to change, from things so small as ordering something else for lunch to buying big and grand cars so that he felt more attractive and desirable. He just so happened to really, really enjoy his favorite meal, and he just so happened to feel hopeless when he tried driving his expensive cars to work. Certainly these cars got a lot of attention, but he got the very strong opinion that men just ogled his car for ogling's sake, and the women interested in his cars were a great deal more interested in his pockets.

He had no one he could call friend, and the employees were afraid to chat with him as they would an equal—naturally, as he was their boss—and had very few people with whom he could relate to. He owned a yacht and had vacationed in nearly every country in the world, but his desk remained unchanged for holidays, from his birthday to Valentine's Day. There was no one for whom Vlad particularly wanted to spend his money on, to spoil, to plan surprises.

Work was humdrum. But home was worse, because there was never anybody waiting for him.

~*oOo*~

One day in early summer, a change came whether Vlad liked it or not, and he most decidedly did not; his secretary of nine years had requested a few weeks off for maternity leave. He hadn't liked it, but he'd had to agree to it; Desiree was the best assistant he'd ever had, and he didn't want her to seek employment elsewhere.

But the girl she had left him with—a young, stuttering intern whose name was Dora—was the most grossly incompetent woman Vlad had ever had to deal with. She was a nervous, twitchy girl who was very absentminded and would stop midway during one task in order to complete another, and would quickly forget her previous responsibilities. She got Vlad's usual coffee order wrong practically every day, and Vlad felt annoyed that he could not shout at her as he wished; the girl's eyes would well up at the drop of a hat.

She didn't file things neatly, and was forever digging through her desk or through her computer for some important document that was needed right that moment. She messed up Vlad's work schedule, so he had to struggle to complete deadlines, and perhaps worst of all (ridiculously enough), she could never remember Vlad's lunch order, even when the silly girl wrote it down.

The fourth time this happened, Vlad stared sullenly at the bag on his desk and considered walking to the office next door and telling Dora she was fired. Oh, there would be waterworks alright, but he was far past caring. This was silly and completely unprofessional; he needed Desiree, who knew what he wanted before he asked and was quiet and proficient at everything she did.

He turned the wrong, wrapped sandwich around in his hands, and it occurred to him that he had never once visited the shop which he so regularly ate from. His frustration turned to bemusement, and he glanced out of his window. It really was a rather nice day outside, and he supposed he might as well satisfy his curiosity about the little place Desiree had found while buying his preferred lunch. It might give him time to consider whether or not he should expel Dora from the company altogether.

With that settled, Mr. Masters tugged on his suit jacket and strode out of the building into the sunshine.

~*oOo*~

As soon as the hot air hit him, Vlad inwardly groaned. _Splendid._ He couldn't bring himself to take off his jacket however, even though he was sweltering inside of it. It seemed the universe was out to punish him every single time he strayed from his routine, which was comforting as it was annoying.

He didn't feel any better when he reached the place, checking the map on his phone to confirm. Yes. The place is really rather dingy, old, and homely—at first, Vlad's nose wrinkled at the sight of the little bakery/restaurant huddled among two brighter looking buildings. But he really was hungry, so he stepped inside, hearing a little bell quaintly _ding!_ as he did so.

The place was nearly empty; there was only one youth on duty behind the counter, next to a glass display of several sweets and baked goods, all neatly lined up in rows. The boy's blue eyes swiveled upwards at the noise, and a smile lit up his face.

"Hey, there," said the employee, as if he'd been waiting for Vlad all day. "Welcome."

The earnestness took Vlad aback for a split second, then he stepped forward. He thought he could see a row of his usual raspberry scones. Before he could open his mouth to order, he noticed that the youth was staring at him, and he turned to look at him.

His mouth dried a little, but he brushed it off; the teen really, really wasn't that bad looking; peach-dusted skin with black spiky hair and tourmaline eyes.

But, as Vlad didn't make a point of ogling teenage boys, he let it go.

He realized that the boy was speaking and refocused his attention.

"Dude. Um, I hope you don't mind me asking, but aren't you melting out there?"

Vlad blinked and shook his head. "Well, I—it really isn't—"

"It's going to be a hot week, pal. Better dress lighter or you'll melt like a snowman!" exclaimed the boy. "You'll be nothing but a puddle and a suit lying on the streets, if you don't evaporate immediately. You know, I wonder if it's hot enough to actually fry an egg on the sidewalk—have you ever wanted to try?"

"I—"

"Going back to what I said about snowmen, you know I've only ever seen snowmen wearing a hat or scarf or tie or something. That makes me sad—I'd love to see a suit jacket on a snowman, but I guess you'd wreck it pretty quickly that way…maybe if you bought one from the thrift store or something it wouldn't be so bad, but I guess you'd only go to that trouble if you liked your snowmen particularly well dressed. But anyhow, you look hot mister—real hot," he drawled out playfully. "I mean, you're sweating and stuff. I hope you have AC where you work."

He turned expectantly to face Vlad, who was still gaping at him. His heart had dropped into his stomach with the boy's teasing.

"So, what can I get for ya?"

Vlad gawked at him for a moment more, and then shook his head. Funny, the boy had been rambling so much about nothing, he was having trouble voicing his order, though he knew it by heart.

"Ah…turkey on whole wheat, tomato, spinach, onion, white cheddar, and mayo on one side, no pickles. And one raspberry scone, if you please."

"Someone knows what he wants," mutters the boy, and Vlad sees that the name on his badge says 'DANIEL.' Smiling, he rips off the paper with Vlad's order and bustles into the deli side, humming slightly as he prepares the meal. "Raspberry scone, huh? Personally, I like the orange ones the best, though nothing beats the éclairs. You gotta try one sometime. Best thing ever."

Vlad smiled slightly; he couldn't help it.

"You sample the desserts?"

"Hey, only the ones that are broken!" exclaimed Daniel defensively. Then, he winked. "My co-workers think it's real funny how so many happen to be broken on my shift."

The smile grew, and Vlad chuckled softly as the clerk wrapped up his sandwich with the little scone. But it appeared he wasn't done; he approached the frozen cappuccino machine, and began to pour some out into a little cup.

"One sandwich, one scone, one iced coffee…"

"But I didn't order any coffee," Vlad said with a small frown. Daniel smirked.

"On the house today, buddy. I'm not about to send you out there so you can die of dehydration and stuff. It tastes pretty good with the scone, but again, I gotta recommend you try the orange scone. Though the chocolate chip muffie tastes even better and I'd live on 'em if I could." He winked again as he grabbed a black marker. "Name?"

Vlad just looked at him, still looking flummoxed. "Er…Daniel, I'm the only one here, so there' s no risk of you giving me the wrong order—"

"Don't care, still gotta do it," said Daniel good-naturedly. "And call me Danny. Everyone does."

No. "Surely you must know me," said Vlad with a smirk, deciding that it wouldn't hurt him to divulge in a little fun, especially since Daniel was playing. "Everyone does."

Danny whistled. "Wow. That's some big talk. But I never forget a customer," he said warningly, wagging a finger in Vlad's direction. "And I've never seen you before."

Vlad looked at him blankly. He had been on several magazine covers, hundreds of newspaper articles, was better known than the president of this country—and Daniel did not know him. He searched Danny's eyes to see if the boy were playing a trick on him, but what he saw was honest naivety.

_Daniel did not know him. _

"Masters," Vlad said at last, smiling contently. Daniel pouted.

"Aw, c'mon, are you really gonna make me guess?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Danny mock-huffed. "Uh, Aaron? Adam? Austin? Babar? Barney? Bartholomew?"

Vlad laughed. "If you insist on running through the alphabet, we will be standing here for some time."

"Oh…" Danny colored and shuffled slightly, looking away. "Uh, sorry about that. I'll ring ya up in a sec." He scribbled something on the coffee cup, then typed in the amount into the cashier. After Vlad paid him and Danny gave him his change, the boy gave him a cheery wave. "Come back soon and chat!"

The boy must have been truly bored…

But as Vlad walked back to his office with his lunch in hands, he found that he could not stop smiling broadly. His odd little exchange with Daniel had been rather…fun, in a strange way. The teen was something rather unusual, quaint even. He supposed that the boy was hardly like such when business was faster, but he somehow got the feeling that that wasn't the case. He supposed he'd have to visit again and see for himself.

When he reached his office and Vlad enjoyed his meal, he checked to see what Daniel had written on his cup and choked.

_To Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome Business Guy Whose Name I Don't Know _

_Love From Danny ^o^ _

~*oOo*~

There had been a bit of spring in Vlad's step when he'd gone to work the next day. He'd traded Dora for another girl named Lydia, who was rather morose and gloomy, but she got the job done well enough, though she was nowhere nearly as effective as Desiree. When she'd asked him what he wanted for lunch, Vlad had told his assistant for the first time "No thanks, I'll go out and fetch it myself."

As Daniel had predicted, the day was hot, but Vlad had persisted in wearing his hot suit, wondering if the boy would rib him about it again. Then, he wondered whether or not the boy was working that day, and this worried him.

But his fears for naught; he entered into the bakery again with the bell dinging softly, and Danny's eyes lit up and he grinned when he noticed the businessman, though he was still speaking to his current customer, a fretful looking old woman.

"—they say it's good for your joints, so hopefully this will help some," said the boy gently as he pushed over a steaming Styrofoam cup over to her. "Get well soon, kay Ms. Britts? And be careful," he warned, wrapping a few napkins around the cup. "It's hot. Don't want to burn yourself now."

The woman smiled and said a soft word of thanks before she waddled outside; Vlad stepped forward and gave the boy a teasing smile. "Well now. And here I thought I was the only one in your life. I thought I was special." He was only half-joking.

Danny feigned fainting. "Oh! Oh, Mr. Something-or-other-Masters, you caught me. But it isn't what it looks like. She's just a friend, I swear!"

"Sure, sure…." Vlad snorted. Danny smiled.

"C'mon. Right now, you're the only guy I'm interested in. What can I get for ya, pal?"

_Pal. Buddy. When was the last time anyone had spoken to him so nonchalantly? _"Iced coffee," he purred, not missing Danny's grin, "Turkey on whole wheat, tomato, spinach, onion, white cheddar…"

"Same as yesterday? Not very adventurous, are ya?" asked Danny as he scribbled down the order. Vlad felt a momentary rush when he realized he remembered. "But what about the scone?"

"Raspberry, of course."

Danny feigned being stabbed. "What, again? You do realize we make other stuff, right?"

"Of course. But I'm a man of habit."

Danny leaned forward, looking interested.

"Then—uh, does that mean you'll be coming back?" he asked, eyes wandering to the floor for an awkward pause. Then, Danny's hand was on his hip and he had lidded his eyes sultrily. "Gotta warn ya, I get pretty attached to my regulars. And you come and visit two days in a row? That's as good as a commitment to me, buddy."

The boy was remarkably slender, but he had a decent bit of muscle…was he an athlete? "Considering this is my favorite place to dine, I am positive there will be no problem."

"Really?" asked Danny, a pleased smile appearing on his face. "Aww, now you're making me blush. But I gotta go fill your boring order, so I'll be a minute."

Vlad was about to argue that his order was _perfectly fine_, and _not boring_, but the boy had already wandered off to prepare the meal, quickly wrapping Vlad's usual in a bag before approaching the cash register. Vlad noticed that he scribbled something again on his coffee cup before he did so. "So, that'll be $5.28."

Vlad paid him. "Do you work here full-time?"

"Me? Mmm, sort of kind of—I don't work on weekends. Summer job. I got some bills to pay."

"What sort of bills?" Vlad asked with a laugh, expecting to hear that the boy was saving up for a game station or something of the sort, but was startled to see a hint of sadness and wistfulness enter the boy's eye. Before he could say another word, Danny had handed him his food with a bright "See you soon!"

Dismayed that he had done something wrong, Vlad slowly moved away, as he realized there was a line behind him. He turned around his cup to read _To Mr. Hot-Hot-Hot Business Guy Dude Whose Name I Still Don't Know. Don't Melt Away, Now! ;)_

_Love From Danny. :D _

~*oOo*~

It was _pathetic_, Vlad knew, to look forward to his brief little chats with the cashier the way he did. But when he got up in the morning, rather than thinking about the portfolios of work that needed be done and the phone conferences he had to finish, he daydreamed about tantalizing brushes of skin when Vlad paid for his daily meal, when Danny would nonchalantly tease him or comment about a bird he'd seen that morning or bring up some strange bit of snippet of conversation when the bakery wasn't crowded.

Vlad found himself impatiently wishing for lunchtime at work, and not typically due to a hungry stomach, though he supposed hunger played some sort of role in it. Though he was very often annoyed at the rush the business would get around noon—Vlad was not a man who was much accustomed to waiting for _anything_—he waited as long as it took for Daniel to serve him, occasionally allowing someone to cut in line so that they could go to the next available register, and he could get Daniel's attention for a moment.

But he wasn't the only one keen to chat with Danny; the boy had a naturally open, magnetic sort of pull to him that made people want to spill their guts around him and simply be around him. When a teary-eyed young teen had told Danny that she had just broken up with her boyfriend, Danny had actually walked out behind the register and hugged the girl before adding a scone to her meal, free of charge.

Vlad found himself glowering at the girl as he ate his meal later that day in one of the bakery's spindly chairs, heart consumed with jealousy. There was always the counter between the two of them, preventing Vlad from just reaching out and taking the boy home with him. He liked Daniel, liked the way the boy made him feel. He made him feel normal, liked, expected. He liked the sometimes strange little notes that Danny would leave for him:

_To Mr. Can't Think Of Anything Else To Order But Still Has Well-Conditioned Hair So It's Probably Okay Business Guy_

_Love, Danny ^_^_

_To Mr. Business Guy With Hot Suit Though It Must Suck To Be You When Outside_

_Love, Danny 8) _

_To Mr. Business Who Still Won't Tell Me His Name But Still Has A Voice That Makes Me Crazy All Over_

_Love, Danny :)_

_To Mr. Slightly Tired Looking But Still Handsome Business Guy: Cheer up! :( _

_Love, A Concerned Danny  
_

He kept the cups after he'd finished with them, tracing over the parts where Daniel had left his love.

It was a bittersweet feeling, realizing that Danny regularly wrote little messages every now and again to other customers. But on closer observation—not that Vlad was peering over the customers' shoulders or anything—Danny never wrote anything beyond the sweet little nothings to other customers, such as _Get Well Soon_ or _Have A Nice Day_. The cups always wound up flung in the garbage, and it bewildered Vlad as to how someone could do that.

It cheered him when he realized that he was the only one Danny wrote messages for. No matter how busy the teen was, he always stopped when filling Vlad's order of iced coffee and scrawled him a quick little message.

How old was the boy? He didn't know, and that worried him, but he found himself thinking about Danny more and more often as the weeks went by. It seemed highly improbable that anything could ever come out of their little tryst—but if the boy were of legal age, than he was free game if there was no one Vlad had to chase away first.

~*oOo*~

Vlad now strode as quickly as he could to the restaurant, even as sweat dripped down his brow and he at last called it quits and took off the hot jacket.

His heart would pulse a little bit at the sound of the bell, and again when Danny's eyes would flash to him, and that _smile_ would come. It made warmth blossom in the pit of Vlad's stomach and spread throughout his body, even after he'd stepped into the air-conditioned building. Seeing Daniel made his pulse surge before a distinct calm settled over him, making it easy to elegantly swagger in. Teasing him was fun, as Daniel was always full of coy and playful banter.

One afternoon, Vlad visited the shop, pleased to see that the bakery was having another fairly slow day. There was only a man and a little girl ahead of him, though Daniel was chatting to them animatedly, holding out two plates of cake. One of them had a lit candle stuck in it.

"—so blow hard and make a wish!" said Danny cheerfully. The man took the plates with a hearty thanks, but the little girl peered up at the teen from behind her father's leg.

"What's wrong with your face?"

"Daisy!" her father scolded. "That's not very nice."

Vlad frowned and stepped closer. Danny smiled, but it was not his usual warm, infectious grin. He turned slightly, and Vlad could make out a distinct purple bruise on his cheekbone and a slight puff to his lower lip, as if it were swollen.

"'snota problem," he said, as the two sat down. He snorted when he saw Vlad. "Hey, it's you again. Y'know, I'm startin' to feel like your wife, making you sandwiches every day."

Vlad ignored the warm rush of blood to his face. "Daniel, what happened to you?"

The boy glanced away. "Nothin'."

"Nothing?"

Danny still wouldn't look at him. "Just bumped into a wall last night. It was really dark."

The boy was lying.


	2. Chapter 2

"Daniel, do you play any sports?"

The boy chuckled softly as he helped himself to a cookie he'd "accidentally" dropped on the floor. "Oh, c'mon," he said, noticing the billionaire wrinkle his nose. "Two second rule, remember? Besides, floor's clean. But to you answer your question, no, I don't think I _technically _play any sports." He seemed to be enjoying his own private joke at the billionaire's expense.

From where he sat in his usual spot, Vlad just raised an eyebrow. The boy's elusiveness to his questions was no longer very endearing. In fact, it was getting most bothersome. "Daniel, where did you get those bruises?"

Danny rolled his eyes as he finished his sweet and wiped the crumbs off the bakery counter. "Mr. What's-your-name, I know that in any bad sitcom bruises have to mean something, but trust me when I say I'm not getting beaten by an abusive girlfriend."

"I never insinuated that you were being harmed by a significant other. Or a girl."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Danny just gawked at him for a second before regaining his composure, smiling slightly. "Wow. Coming from you, that's….wow."

"What?" demanded Vlad, wanting to know what he did wrong. "And what precisely do you mean by that?"

Danny just returned to his work, chuckling. Vlad frowned, not used to being ignored and not liking it one bit. "Daniel, do you have any hobbies?" He would gradually work his way to the question that burned in his mind, and pray that the young man was too dense to notice.

The boy shrugged. "Oh…stuff," he said idly. Vlad realized long ago that the teen did not particularly like to talk about himself. "I like model plane and rockets, though they take forever to build and they're annoying as hell. I also—"A blush colored his face, and he turned his head away, and the boy busied himself with straightening the perfectly adjacent menu boards. "Well, I guess I like the normal stuff for someone my age," he said blandly. "Music, video games, seeing my friends, oh, chatting with suave and mysterious businessmen," he added, smirking when he noticed Vlad flush. "Though I guess _that_ particular hobby is kinda unconventional. Still, I can't tell you how enjoyable it's been. And I was really worryin' this job would be boring as all get out."

"Surely you must have a very good reason for working," said Vlad smoothly, still itching to demand his real answers. "You're here nearly every day, and for so many hours…I imagine it must be taxing, when there are things you'd much rather be doing."

The boy shrugged, then turned his head to greet two customers. When he finished filling their orders, he simply turned back to the man and said, "Necessary evil."

Vlad nodded sympathetically, as if he understood. "For what, if you don't mind me asking? It must be very difficult, when a boy of your age would probably be enjoying summer vacation at this point…." _How old are you how old are you can I possibly legally get my hands on you_. "…. Perhaps a car payment…college? I can't think of anything else so compelling as to keep you here for so long." _Do you truly like men is there someone can I get them out of the way and drag you to my private jet and steal you away to an island so we might go at it like rabbits._

For the first time ever, Danny gave the man a truly annoyed look, as if he knew what he really wanted to ask. But before he could open his mouth, a group of laughing teenagers came strolling in, forming a thick line. The lunch rush was just starting, and Vlad knew that there'd be no point in trying to get an answer out of the boy today. With a sigh, Vlad threw all but his coffee cup away and left the building. Daniel was so attentive to the customers he didn't notice Vlad's goodbye.

When he was outside again, the billionaire looked at the message Danny had scrawled on his Styrofoam cup. Today it read:

_To Mr. Damn I'm Stubborn And Really Don't Wanna At Least TRY A Cookie, At Least You Have Some Very Nice Ties. ;) _

_Love, Danny_

_P.S, Thx 4 worrying, Mr. Hot Bad Guy who's a real teddy bear, but it's all good. You'll keep your secrets, and I'll keep mine. _

~*oOo*~

"You look exhausted."

"Night shift."

"Why are you limping?"

"Hmm? Oh, I slipped on a stair the other day and twisted it."

"Where did that bruise come from?"

"I don't really remember…"

The week went on, and it seemed that every day Danny was suffering from some new malady. After pestering the teen with questions again and again, Vlad was stuck in his seat, fuming furiously as Danny cheerily greeted customers with a black eye. His grip on the éclair that Danny had finally weaseled him into trying was so tight that the cream filling oozed out all over his trembling hand. He looked down at the mess and winced; at least it hadn't been his precious cup.

The boy sounded like some wife trying to come up with excuses for random injuries dealt by an abusive husband. The idea had Vlad gnawing on the inside of his mouth, incensed in the dead of night. The boy seemed much too young to be wed, and much too peppery to permit a boyfriend or a girlfriend physically harm him, but life had taught Mr. Masters that the youth were truly _stupid _in love, or at least in raw, ornery obsession.

What if the boy were involved with someone cruel and possessive? What if Danny was afraid for his life every afternoon, trying to convince himself that he somehow _deserved_ the abuse and that whoever was dealing it out honestly loved him? Vlad's cold eyes burned as he considered the youth, and he longed to strike someone, though he didn't know whom.

More than any other point in his life, Vlad Masters longed to be the clichéd, gallant hero, the one who carried his love to safety after knocking the teeth straight out of an abusive romantic rival's mouth. He imagined Danny's arms wound around his neck, the scent of the boy flooding his senses and making his head swim, the soft touch of lips brushing past the hollow in Vlad's throat, to the rough stubble on his chin, to his li—

"Uh, dude? Did that éclair owe you money or something? You squeezed the life out of the poor thing."

Vlad started out of his reverie and noticed Danny standing next to him, shaking his head. "Y'know, when people try new foods, they typically _consume_ them. You know, by opening their mouths…chewing it…"

"Very funny," snapped the man, who fussily began wiping the crème off his hands with a napkin Danny offered. "Thank you. Daniel, I—"

Danny brought out another éclair from behind his back, smiling broadly. "C'mon, you big baby, I want to see you at least try it. It's a day old, but it should still be good."

Rolling his eyes, Vlad took the puff pastry and with exaggerated reluctance, tried it, only to be pleasantly surprised. It was heavenly delicious, and it wasn't long before the billionaire had finished off the entire thing. He would have licked his fingers if his manners would have permitted it.

Danny threw back his head and laughed merrily; Vlad thrilled at the sound.

"I wish I'd taken a picture. That was priceless."

"Thank you, Daniel." Before the boy could turn away, the businessman seized him, noting the soft gasp of surprise he uttered. This was the first time the two had approached each other without a counter—a respectful, businesslike counter, keeping their banter as mere silly games—separating the two. Danny swallowed heavily, bravado draining out of his face as Vlad stared at him hungrily, his eyes a pair of fishhooks desperately rooting about in Danny's wide blue ones, searching and rooting about wildly.

"Daniel?" Ugh, he hated how _shy_ he suddenly sounded, like some blasted schoolgirl! "I'm—I'm glad of you. I mean it."

Danny's surprised expression gave way to a big grin, though it looked shy and uncertain and dopey and adorable all at once.

"No problem man," he said gently, before disentangling himself from Vlad's grip and heading back behind the counter.

~*oOo*~

The boy had money problems, and was dealing with a bunch of loan sharks. That would explain why he worked so hard for so long. His fingers drummed against his desk as he stared blankly at several drafts, rereading the same line over and over again without realizing it.

Or…the boy had an abusive guardian, which would explain the injuries and Daniel's reluctance to say anything about it. While he fervently hoped that Daniel was old enough to not need a parent, Vlad _didn't know_. He had tried to learn the boy's age, but Daniel had wanted his in return, and Vlad had balked then. No need to scare the boy by letting him think he was some sort of cougar. God, so many questions! He wanted to know _everything_!

The next day as he walked to the bakery, Vlad was going over several different tactics in his head, wondering if he should perhaps finally give in on his front and tell the boy his blasted name. Danny hadn't recognized his face; perhaps he wouldn't know his name, either. He didn't want things to change, for the young man to stiffen up and treat him differently, but if he let down some of his walls, maybe Daniel would too. _Then I can learn more about him and perhaps—_

He opened the door and the bell dinged, much as it always had. But when the businessman came in, he blinked in confusion, at first wondering if he'd come into the right place. An unfamiliar, gangly youth with several tattoos and piercings was waiting behind the counter in Daniel's place.

"'Sup?" asked the boy, and Vlad just blinked at him. "Can I help you with something, sir?"

Disoriented, Vlad looked around, peering hopefully beyond the teen at the storage room behind him, hoping to see a sign of spiky black hair. "Is Daniel…?"

The barista whose name evidently was Matt snorted. "You and the rest of the world have been asking that since eight. Naw, Danny's not here today. Sick day."

"Sick?" Vlad's voice took on a weedy, apprehensive tone. The boy shrugged.

"Either he's sick or he got hurt somehow; I dunno. Maybe he's just faking it, though that doesn't seem much like Danny. I'm filling in for him today, so whatever." Matt shrugged. "Can I take your order?"

A pause. "Do you know when he'll be coming back?"

"I don't know when or if. What can I get for you?"

Vlad shook his head distractedly, appetite lost. "No….no, thank you. I don't believe I'm very hungry today."

The man left without another word, biting his lip.

~*oOo*~

Three days later, Danny finally returned, looking weak and wan, but no worse for wear. Vlad had greeted him politely enough when he saw the young man again, trying to mask his true elation.

"So, have you been well?" asked Vlad as Danny filled out his time-old order. Danny smiled.

"Been kinda busy, and there have been some…things, but I think everythin's gonna be just fine, thanks. It's been _weird_, not seeing you, you know."

"I second the notion," said Vlad as Danny handed him a bag. "I've…Daniel, if there's anything you ever need or want to talk about, I'm here."

God, that sounded so pathetic he wanted to kill himself. But Danny gave him a kind look.

"Thanks, pal. It's always nice chatting with you. Always look forward to it."

Danny grabbed a nearby marker and began to scrawl on it. "To Mr…."

Vlad took the young man's thin wrist in his own, effectively making the barista's ears turn scarlet, his mouth a small 'o.' Vlad smiled lightly.

"My name is _Vlad_, dear boy."

And with that, the billionaire plucked the coffee cup out of Danny's limp hold and brought the boy's other hand to his lips for the briefest second. Then, without another word, Vlad left, leaving behind a frozen mess in his wake.

~*oOo*~

Whatever this was, Vlad was fairly certain it didn't constitute as 'illegal.' Or creepy. It was _considerate_, perhaps even thoughtful. Didn't young girls fawn over slightly obsessive\ men these days in the media? Vlad adjusted his binoculars, which were rather difficult to use considering he was wearing shades, and peered out the window.

Danny had had no _idea_ just how close Vlad had been to hiring a private eye to track down the boy's whereabouts. Though it sounded like the boy had just had a bad case of the Common Cold, his favorite cashier was very possibly harming himself or being harmed by others.

It was _natural_ for Vlad, being a concerned adult, to want to look out for his young friend. Natural to pursue answers when they were not more forthwith coming.

Natural to wait for Danny's shift to end and pursue the ignorant teen as he pedaled down the street on his bicycle, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Vlad had felt better seeing it; perhaps the boy WAS engaged in a sport of some kind. Vlad had been a member of his college's rugby team, and the occasional bump or a bruise hadn't been foreign to him then.

_But why wouldn't Daniel simply say that? Why lie?_

He wished he could have brought his limousine, but that was much too conspicuous—as it was, his car was getting a lot of looks from passerby. He avoided trailing Danny too closely and occasionally circled around the block before quickly tailing him again, desperate to look like a confused driver who had gotten lost rather than a creepy stalker. He even asked for unnecessary directions from passerby so that there would at least a witness for his innocence if the police pulled him over, but Vlad felt that nothing quite settled the police force like a good, hearty "donation," so he had stacks of bribe money in his map compartment just in case he had to pay someone off.

But thankfully, no one approached him, and so Vlad kept following Danny, wishing that he'd hired a professional to do this, but that had seemed remarkably _impersonal_. When you cared enough to stalk someone, you might as well have the decency to do it yourself.

For twenty minutes, Vlad followed Danny, resisting the urge to simply pull up to the boy and offer the teen a ride. Then, Danny pulled into a parking lot, and the billionaire found himself peering up at an old sign.

_The Isabelle Crown Hall of Performing Arts?_

Intrigued, Vlad watched as Danny slowed his bike to a stop, chained his bicycle to a nearby rack, and headed off inside, bag swinging behind him. Did the boy have another job here?

Vlad quickly drove into the mostly-deserted parking lot, squeezing his fancy car between two others so that it at least _sort of_ blended in, waited a moment, and then hurried inside after Daniel, glass doors swinging shut behind him.

To his dismay, he quickly found himself in something that appeared to be a maze. As he could neither see nor hear the boy any longer, he quickly took a left and found himself in a collection of halls filled with little rooms that appeared to be empty studios. He wandered around the vacant hall for a bit, came to the end, and then went back to the entrance, taking a right this time.

After perhaps a half hour of wandering around a mostly empty building, Vlad found himself drawn to a large set of doors, from which he heard music drifting sweetly from behind. He paused, enjoying the slightly haunting tune for a moment or so before he dared to open the door just a crack.

Row after row of seats, and a colossal stage at its center—he was in an auditorium. His eyes wandered to the brightly lit stage, skulking back in the darkness like a rat as he wandered over to the last row of seats shrouded in shadow, sitting down.

There were several young girls in plain white tutus and tights listening attentively to a short, wizened, and from the sound of it, a very bossy woman lecturing them. Even though Vlad was sitting so far away, he could hear her booming voice very well:

"You are Juliet's attendants, da?" she barked. "Act like graceful, giggling maidens rather than awkward geese! Star, you are much too stiff when you move—do not pout, I will not have robots on my stage! And you must remember to _time_ your side leaps! The Capulets will not hire girls who do not know how to synchronize their movements, and I will not have them on stage! We will begin again, and this time, I expect you to synchronize! Move as one!"

She turned her head to the curtain. "Paulina, you must join them! What good are Juliet's attendants without Juliet! And Danny, I want you to watch her movements closely. Romeo's moves compliment Juliet's!"

Vlad's head swung forwards; a scowling, tan beauty in a magnificent white tutu appeared from one side of the stage, and from another, Daniel appeared. He was clad in a blue and gold tunic with tights. Vlad swallowed as he let his eyes wander up the boy's legs, displayed so nicely in those tights….wandering up and up and up as the music began again….

The dark-haired Juliet danced gracefully, circled by her pretty young attendants and her nurse, breaking from them to meet with Danny, who had begun to elegantly sashay his way towards her. His arms wrapped around her waist and Vlad felt a brutal stab of jealousy as the girl clung to him like a koala bear would a tree. His quick, lithe feet danced about the stage, dark slippers rising as he began to spin the two about, as if they were not youngsters and instead two porcelain figures in a music box….

The sweet music became unabashedly dark; the two separated, and while Juliet looked rather soppish in her attempts to look sad, there was unmistakable _anguish_ in Danny's eyes as the two broke apart, slaves to the music. The Juliet girl pirouetted again and again and again as Danny spun about her, adagio transferring to attitude to something wild. She pranced; he leapt, she twirled, he flew. Sweat gleamed on his brow as they both completed a grand barrement, she spinning clockwise, he spinning counterclockwise. Vlad resisted the urge to stand up and applaud vigorously when the music ended, completely confused when the woman in charge only barked "Better, but Danny needs to be more masculine! Romeo is like flower, but the flower has steel! Steel! Paulina, Juliet is innocent young girl, not buxom seductress! Again!"

He watched for what felt like hours, wondering if maybe Daniel was just getting his injuries from ballet practice. Vlad could certainly understand why Danny did not want to tell him—very likely the young man was afraid of being judged. But how did he get so many when he appeared to be an excellent dancer, a swan prince turned human?

Later, when the ballerinas were instructed to head to the showers, the instructor took Danny's shoulder and started talking softly with him. Despite how hard Vlad strained his ears, he could not make out what she was saying, though Daniel certainly looked distressed. At the least the room was empty, so his voice boomed a bit:

"It's not gonna be a problem much longer. Your Romeo is going to be in fine shape to perform next week."

More whispering. Then, Danny sighed.

"Look, you know why I did it, and it wasn't because I wanted to. It's getting too dangerous. I…I'm sorry, Madame, but there's nothing I can do about it."

The scowling woman made a sympathetic clucking sound, and patted Danny on the elbow—the highest point she could reach. Then, the two left the stage, turning the lights off with them, leaving Vlad alone in the dark.

~*oOo*~

"Hey Mr…Vlad," said Danny as Vlad entered the following afternoon. "Just give me a sec—I'll have your order ready in a jiffy."

"That won't be necessary today, actually," said Vlad smoothly as he slowly approached the counter, noticing how Danny raised an eyebrow. "I'll be trying something different. Oh, yes, very funny, ha-ha," he snapped, when the clerk tumbled to his knees and lifted his arms towards heaven. "You've convinced me, dear boy. Are you satisfied?"

Danny chortled as he stood up, wiping his eyes. "Eh, I s'pose it was kind of flattering that I could make a sandwich good enough for someone to want to eat it every day," he said modestly, picking up a notebook. "But hopefully you learn to like some new stuff…your next barista might just not get your order right," he added teasingly. "Then there would be hell to pay."

"A new barista?" asked Vlad disdainfully. "As if. You're the only clerk I'd ever care to have waiting on me."

The teen blinked but quickly recovered. "Awww, you're sweet. But you'll find someone new. Still," He wagged his finger teasingly. "He won't have my style. But it's good for you to try new things, y'know?"

"Why fix what isn't broken?" asked Vlad. "I come to this place every day because I like the food, yes…but also because the bakery isn't without its _charms_…and _smells_." He reached out and tucked a dark spike of hair behind the boy's ear. "I'd be quite delighted if my current arrangement could be a little less…_temporary_."

Danny looked like he wanted to retort something, gulped like a fish out of water, and glanced down at his notepad, ears bright red.

"Still," said Vlad brightly. "I suppose today I will have a bit of a shake-up in my routine…I'll have the tomato bisque, Daniel." The name was beautiful, sweet as clover honey on the tongue.

The normally ever-efficient barista just nodded absentmindedly, and stammered something, face still quite flushed.

~*oOo*~

"Daniel?" asked Vlad when he had finished. "Do you mind explaining to me how you got that scratch on your cheek?"

"Cat," muttered Danny as he mopped the floor behind the cashier. His face said all too clearly '_Mind your own damn business_.' Vlad settled back in his seat like a king, dark blue eyes flashing. Well, if the boy wanted to be a challenge….

"..I see. How unfortunate. But I was wondering if you could possibly help me with a conundrum I'm in."

The young man glanced up curiously and wiped his hands on his apron. "Sure. Uh, what d'you need?"

Vlad smiled apologetically. "My secretary had planned to go to the American Ballet Theater tonight for a performance of _Coppelia_ with her mother, but I believe the poor woman had a…kidney stone, so my secretary just gave me her tickets. I've never been to the ABT, but I've heard it's quite the experience." He tasted success as soon as he heard Danny gasp. "The best in the country, I've heard…now, I know a young man like you would likely be bored by such things, but I was wondering…"

Danny had frozen solid behind the register. "Mr. Mas—Vlad, you can't seriously be asking…I-I mean, it would be fabulous and amazing, but those tickets are seriously—"

"They are non-refundable," said Vlad shortly. "And I did not pay a cent for them, so I ask that you don't feel guilty. What I'm asking for is that you come with me at the end of your shift. Perhaps we'll pick up a spot of dinner on our way too, mmm?"

Danny just gawked at him and blushed—a truly adorable sight, Vlad thought—slowly raising his hands to his face. He looked overwhelmed.

"Uh, well, t-that's very kind of you and all, but I'm not dressed very appropriately, big guy." He gestured helplessly towards his flour-dusted apron and plain uniform. "I don't think I could go anywhere fancy dressed up like this…"

"Oh, they will not mind," said Vlad breezily. "And if they do, they will have a word with me, which needless to say, they will not enjoy. I will pick you up at seven, little one."

"But-"

"Hush." Vlad winked. "It's the least I can do considering your superb customer service over the past few weeks, my boy. Will you come away with me?"

Danny exhaled. "Sure, I'll go with you…but can you stop talking like that? I feel like you're a stranger trying to seduce me with candy."

"But you know who I am," Vlad pouted—dear lord, he NEVER pouted—"And why seduce you with something sweet when you are invariably sweet as it is?"

"Jesus, where do you find these lines?" Danny complained, though his eyes glinted with amusement and something Vlad could not identify.

"It's a date?"

Danny grinned. "It's a date."

~*oOo*~

When at last the Open sign was turned round to Closed, Danny stepped out of the bakery, uncertainly eyeing the few cars that were there. When he heard Vlad calling his name, his head swiveled around and his jaw dropped.

Vlad smirked at him from the window of his limousine, beckoning the boy to come hither with a finger. Shaking his head slightly, Danny slowly approached, smiling.

"You came." There was a hint of wonder in his voice. Vlad snorted.

"Was there any doubt?" he asked dryly, not wanting to know the answer. He stepped outside the posh black vehicle towards the young man, hoping he came off as soft and reassuring. Judging by Daniel's nervous swallow and smile, he just looked predatorial. "My dear, you look lovely this evening."

Danny just looked at him. "I smell like biscuits and there's flour in my hair."

"Mmm…it suits." Vlad bowed ridiculously low and opened the car door. "Your chariot awaits, my good sir."

Danny snorted, but hesitantly clamored in, looking all around himself with bright eyes as Vlad settled in after him, and closed the door. "Wow. This is pretty freaking sweet. You live in here?"

"Don't be silly." Danny eyed the mini bar and laughed as the car began to pull out and zoom down the road.

"Just a thought. You do pretty well for yourself, huh?"

"I suppose." He reached for a nearby pail filled with ice and fancy bottles. "Can I interest you in a glass of champagne, Daniel?"

The blush on Danny's face deepened. He looked sorely tempted, but said simply, "Uh, too young for that, Mr. Masters. But thanks."

Vlad leaned back on his leather seat. Hmmm. He'd thought that'd likely be the case.

"Well, hopefully we'll find something at the restaurant you'll like. So, how's work been?"

They chattered for awhile; Danny slowly began to ease up, though it was still painfully obvious he was somewhat unused to such posh environments. Vlad wondered what sort of people his parents were, if Daniel was fairly well-off to be able to afford regular ballet classes.

"What do your parents do for a living, young man?"

The boy shifted in his seat. "Depends which one you ask. Mom will have a little more tact and say 'paranormal investigator,' whereas my dad will just call himself a ghostbuster."

This boy certainly raised some interesting questions inside Vlad. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"One. An older sister. She's at Yale." Danny's short tone told Vlad that he didn't particularly like to talk about his sister. Vlad took the point and shut up for a bit.

Danny eyed Vlad's tuxedo warily as the limousine pulled into the parking lot of an enormous, incredibly posh-looking building. The teen swallowed. "Oh….oh, we're not….having….dinner _here_, are we?" he squeaked.

For a boy who could dish out so many raunchy compliments, thought Vlad, he certainly could turn red. "But of course."

Danny shook his head again, intimidated expression appearing again as the driver parked and politely opened the door for them both. There was a bowing footman waiting for them at the door, and Danny's eyes became fixated on the colossal chandelier.

The waiter was dressed in a tuxedo, but he didn't so much as blink when he saw Danny's grubby attire, instead bowing deeply and directing them for a set table for two isolated in a corner of the establishment, with a lovely bouquet of flowers in the center. Vlad had called ahead of time and made reservations.

Danny fidgeted when he saw Vlad hold pull out the velvet-cushioned chair for him, and he slid into it with as much grace as he could muster at the moment, which apparently wasn't very much. Vlad seated himself on the other side, smiling broadly. He certainly looked right at home in this environment, whereas Danny shrunk in on himself a little, eyeing his woebegone clothes and looking somewhat mortified. The man cleared his throat, anxious to coax the boy out of his shell.

"Have you ever been to the Palm Court before, Daniel?" he asked as he unfolded his linen napkin and neatly put it on his lap, Danny scrambling to copy him. The teen let out a nervous giggle, and then blushed harder.

"Uh, no. This place…." His eyes swept to the cream and gold ceiling, the magnificent windows. "It's so cool, I feel like I'm in a palace or something. But I bet the theater's gonna look even more incredible," he said sincerely as a waiter bustled over to light the candle on their table. "I…thanks so much, man. I kinda think I'm dreaming."

Vlad smiled, both at Daniel's starry-eyed look and at the pleased tingle he felt in his body. "You're quite welcome, dear boy. It's the least I can do for your exquisite customer service."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I made coffee and a sandwich for you every day for a couple of weeks. Clearly I need a trip to a five star restaurant and an evening to a ritzy ballet. Only thing missing is a freaking carriage, but considering you got a limousine waiting for us, that's a pretty even substitute." He took a sip of the water that a waiter poured him, opened the menu, and visibly choked. "Wow. This place is pretty….pretty good, huh?" Judging by the way he glanced at his pocket, he seemed to have meant "pretty expensive."

Vlad carelessly ordered a glass of cognac from a waitress. "I suppose it is…they use only the finest quality ingredients."

"Sounds like a good sales pitch for the place, bud."

"Well, it's not quite like the food you make, little badger…."

The boy glared at him. Vlad held up his hands and shrugged. "What? You are allowed to call me 'Mr. Hot-Secret-Agent-Looking-Spy-Business-Man' and 'Mr. Suave-And-Sexy-Suit-Guy' and I am not allowed one term of endearment?"

Ignoring that, Danny turned the menu over and paled as he looked at the appetizers. "Wow….sixty bucks for a plate of…actually, that looks just one oyster. That thing better have a freaking pearl inside of it…"

"Would you care to try it?"

"Uh…no. I think I'll just get a salad." His eyes fluctuated towards the cheapest-looking item on the menu, which happened to be thirty dollars.

"Nonsense. What would you like?" Vlad picked up his own menu, eyes flicking carelessly through it. "Perhaps you'd enjoy trying the Taste platter, which is a little bit of everything? You can try bits of King Crab, the porterhouse steak….this delightful salad….soup…"

"I'm good, thanks," said Danny quickly. The price of the Taste was more than he made in two weeks!

But his jaw dropped when the man cheerfully ordered two of the most expensive item on the menu as if it were nothing.

~*oOo*~

"Really, really good, but high prices for these 'big' servings, huh?" asked Danny, turning over a tiny piece of steak as if he thought there would be more underneath it. "I'm kinda afraid I'm going to wind up eating the garnish without noticing."

"Then I'll order another," offered Vlad, but Danny just crossed his arms and looked at him pointedly.

"You're really spoiling me rotten, man. Not cool."

"This treatment is hardly more than what you give to your customers," said Vlad coolly, taking a sip of cognac. "I don't think anyone who's been lucky enough to be served by you doesn't leave without feeling just a little bit special."

Danny leaned back in his seat, blue eyes sparkling in a way that made Vlad nearly breathless. "Well, that's the nicest compliment I've ever gotten from a customer. I'll have to think of some way to repay you."

"You already have," said Vlad, remembering to breathe and resuming eating. "But by all means, please continue giving me free pastries." Danny laughed.

When the dessert tray came along—all fancy and tiered like an old English queen's, noted Danny—the teen bit into a piece of pumpkin cheesecake and rolled his eyes back, moaning in pleasure. The businessman tried _very_ hard not to think what it would be like to see that expression underneath him. "_Yum_. There's crack in this thing so good. Buuut," he said cheerfully, plucking a nearby cherry off a dessert and putting it in his mouth. "Still not quite the chocolate scones. I'll have to give you a bag of those before I leave so you'll know what I mean."

Vlad had helped himself to a bit of blueberry crumble, but he looked crumbled.

"You are leaving your job…very soon?"

Danny looked down at one of his mini-pies, no longer looking very enchanted.

"Yeah. It's been fun, but summer'll be over before you know it. Then I have to go back to school." A hint of bitterness crept into his tone. "Fun times."

"Do you go to college, Daniel?" asked Vlad desperately. "Is that what you've been paying for?"

Startled, Danny looked up and opened his mouth, but just then another ass-kissing waiter arrived with the check (and a complimentary basket of goodies). Danny reached out for it to check the damage, but Vlad snatched it out of his reach.

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed as Vlad drew out his gold credit card. "Vlad, I can't just let you—this meal must've been at _least_ three hu—"

"Pocket change, dear boy. Now let us away—we have a performance to attend."

~*oOo*~

"Do you like ballet, Daniel?" asked Vlad as the boy checked the program, practically bouncing in his seat. Danny shrugged.

"Well, yeah. Sort of. I…" he faltered, and looked at his hands. The billionaire looked at the heavy velvet curtains of the stage.

"I think it is simply beautiful," he said, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the teen was looking at him. "Magnificent. Such language and passion and expression demonstrated in a single movement! A remarkable art."

The rosy hue in Danny's cheeks returned, but he said nothing for a moment. Then—

"I wish I could dance here," he said quietly, almost inaudibly, wistfully looking at the ornate decoration of the theater. "It's my dream."

Vlad feigned surprise, though he inwardly crowed in victory. "Why, do you dance, Daniel? Are you a ballerina?"

The way the boy's expression darkened certainly caught Vlad off guard. "I—I mean," he stammered. "I do not know what you call a male ballerina….if you _are_ a ballerina, and I would think it incredible if you were, but I am not insinuating that you are un-masculine or—"

"Vlad?"

The man wanted to kick himself. "Yes, Daniel?"

Danny put a finger to his lip. "Shhh. It's starting. Be quiet."

~*oOo*~

The storyline of _Coppelia_ centered on a rather stupid man who fell in love with a doll. Vlad supposed he enjoyed it, but he much preferred to watch Danny, who was spellbound by the entire performance, at rapt attention in his seat. Every so often Vlad could faintly hear him murmur "Oh, nice one" when a ballerina accomplished a particularly difficult spin, or hiss in disappointment when he seemed to notice some obscure falter. Vlad wondered if he were like so when he watched his favorite football team play. He wondered if Daniel would ever have the opportunity to tease him about it.

A faint sadness crept into Danny's face when the man and his finance began to dance with the townspeople, which surprised and worried Vlad. When the play came to an end and everyone stood to clap, Danny joined in the applause, but it was half-hearted; the glow that had animated him was gone.

Vlad wrapped an arm around Danny's shoulders as they trudged down the steps. "Did you enjoy it?" He was trying to figure out what idiotic thing he'd done.

Danny shrugged absently. "It was nice. Thanks for taking me, Vlad."

The man smiled and squeezed the teen's shoulder. It was wonderful to hear him say that.

Neither of them felt the need to break the stillness between them for a long time. Danny was staring pensively into space, as if he were debating something. After receiving a questioning glance from Vlad, he sighed, and looked down.

"In a company," said Danny wearily. "I'd just be a ballet dancer. I don't like being called a stupid ballerina."

"So you are a dancer," breathed Vlad, his polished shoes approaching the young man. "I think that is marvelous."

Danny smiled slightly, though it was not a happy smile. His eyes were almost pitying.

"Tell that to the kids at my school," he said shortly, wrapping his arms tighter around himself and shivering. "Dude, it's freaking July. What business does the weather have being freaking chilly out?"

Vlad immediately took off his cloak and draped it around his shoulders. Danny flushed, tried to push it back, and upon looking at Vlad's expression, reluctantly put the oversized jacket on. "…thanks," he said begrudgingly. The billionaire just looked at him.

"Why, what do the people at school do?" he asked, mouth drying when he thought of the numerous bruises that dotted Danny's skin so regularly. "Surely they wouldn't _hurt_ you—"

"Surely you don't know young people, Mr. Masters," said Danny quietly. Vlad reeled back as if he'd been slapped, and glared at him.

"What is that supposed to mean? Daniel, you are such a wonderful young man; why would anyone hurt you? How _could_ anyone hurt you now, in the summer when there is no school?"

Danny drew Vlad's black leather jacket more tightly around himself. "I talk the way I do, look the way I do, work at a freaking bakery and dance fucking ballet. Why do _you_ think they would hold me down and slam a door against my arms or legs or head?" he asked dryly, unresponsive to Vlad's cringe. "You think that once I'm not in my school's halls, they're just gonna _stop_? You know what I have to put up with every time I go online, every time my Dad asks why the hell someone throws a brick through one of our windows with the word FAG written on it? Every time I have to bike like a freaking maniac just so that Dash doesn't 'accidentally' run into me with his Camaro?"

Danny blinked and flushed, looking down at his wrung hands. He looked ashamed. "I'm really sorry. Stuff's been….going on…didn't mean to lose it on you—especially when we're having such a nice-"

The boy squawked as Vlad yanked him into an embrace, scrabbling furiously to get away. "Hey, what are ya—"

"Oh, Daniel," whispered Vlad against his neck, ignoring the teen's struggles. "Why haven't you told anyone—the police, your parents, me?"

Danny put his hands on the businessman's shoulders and attempted to shove his way free. But Vlad gave as much as a statue, and the teen settled at last, his blue eyes incredibly cold.

"Too bad for me that Dash's dad just so happens to be Chief of Police, and no one on the squad takes me seriously when I get beat up or get a rib broken, or am too fucking afraid for my life to leave my house for three days! And what are my parents supposed to do about it? As far as they know, the bullying's just too bad but something '_everyone goes through eventually,_'" he simpered, mocking someone's voice. "As far as they're concerned, I bring it on myself by insisting on doing ballet to begin with! They stopped paying for my classes so I got a job. But I'm_ tired_," whimpered Danny, stamping his foot. "I'm tired of hurting and I'm sick of being scared and of having to hide behind the counter whenever I see one of _them_ go past the window!" His angry voice was beginning to escalate into sobs.

"Shhhh," soothed Vlad, pulling Danny into a tighter embrace. But the boy just started fighting like a trapped coyote in a cage. "Mmph! D-Daniel, stop it….I wish you had come to me. I could have taken care of it…."

Danny looked resigned. "What, by throwing a bunch of money at the problem and praying it goes away? Maybe that works for you, but it won't work for me. Now let me go or…or I'll scream," he said warningly. Vlad sighed.

"Then scream. But I want to help you. Isn't there anything I can do?" he asked sadly, pressing his lips against Danny's forehead. Not a kiss, just a simple touch; the feeling of skin pressed against skin. "I can drive you to school….to practice. I can protect—"

"There's nothing you can do about it, Vlad," said the teen said sadly as he drew back, refusing to make eye contact with the man. "But it'll be over soon."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm quitting. My job and the dancing. Then people should leave me alone."

Vlad felt his heart sink. "You can't. If you wish to stop working, that's all well and good—I'll pay for your classes, but you can't stop doing what you pour your heart and soul into on a daily basis. I've _seen_ you dance before, Daniel, and you are the most beautiful—"

_"What?"_ asked Danny sharply. "You…you've seen…"

Horrified, Vlad bit his lip, knowing he had gone much too far. "Yes, I followed you because I was worried, never imagined you were being bullied, I swear, I just was curious and I—"

His voice caught in his throat; Danny looked enraged, _scared._

"You…you _fucking followed me to practice_?" he asked, his lips barely moving, voice a low croak from panic. "What the…the _hell _is wrong with you? You can't just…why did you….is THAT why you came in every day, just so that you could STALK me? Did you think I was….what….." At that point, Danny was trembling with so much anger he could barely speak. Vlad closed his eyes.

"I'm a man of routine. I thought I told you that previously. But I wanted to see you. You make me happy. You make me glad to be alive."

Danny's furious look melted away to an incredulous sort of weariness.

"…I don't know if that's the creepiest thing I've ever heard, or the sweetest," he said tiredly, turning his head upwards to the sky, as if he were asking it for help. "But..Vlad, if you want this to…turn into something….I…"

"I love you."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I love you," repeated Vlad, his hands no longer holding Danny captive but snaking to take hold of Danny's, fingertips running over the palms. "I want to help you. I love everything about you."

The boy extricated himself from the billionaire's grasp, looking tormented. A sad smile appeared on his face, and Danny stood on tiptoe to brush his lips against Vlad's. But before the man could seize him and pull him closer, he immediately stepped back, both red and apologetic.

"…it'd be nice, if the world were kind enough to leave it at that," he said regretfully. "….or if life were, for that matter. Goodnight, Vlad." Danny retreated away from the streetlamp under which they stood. "And goodbye."

Vlad just watched him go, his heart hammering behind his ribs. For a moment, he was simply numb, and then warning bells started to shriek in his head. "W-Wait! Let me drive you home at least!" he exclaimed, running after the young man. "Oh, for the love of—waaiiiittt!"

He seized hold of Danny's wrist. The teen didn't turn around to look at him.

"Don't do this."

"Then don't YOU do THIS," snarled Vlad. "I will have you."

"You can't."

"Do you like me?" asked the man despairingly. The teen huffed and turned around, and Vlad was distraught to see the tears rushing down his face.

"Of…of course I do, Vlad, but it doesn't work out that way! I'm a KID! You think that we're going to get together, like some prince and a poor person in a fairy tale and get along JUST FINE because of LOVE? 'Love' isn't the crap policemen like to hear when they discover you've been playing around with someone half your age, Vlad!"

"You wouldn't be in trouble. I'd be the villain who seduced a young boy into doing bad things if we were caught," Vlad pleaded. "I'm prepared to take the risk."

"Vlad…"

"Please."

Danny just looked at him, his eyes immeasurably sad.

"Please let go of me."

"I can't."

"Grow up."

"Please."

"Vlad. Let me go. Right now."

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Vlad begged. "I'll do anything you want. Please."

Danny just shook his head, smiling sadly. "The only thing I'll ever able to be is your barista, Vlad. It's a nice thought, being with you, but you'd get sick of me pretty quick. You'd get caught, and even if you managed to weasel out of jail time, you'd be thought of as a pedophile for the rest of your life. You'd be ruined. And I'd be the slutty boy who thought he was a grownup and that he was in love and was treated like a mindless fuck puppet." He bumped his forehead against Vlad's and frowned. "Don't you see? I'm trying to protect both our asses here. We're no good for each other."

"You are perfect for me."

"You're bored and rich." Danny sighed again. "And I happen to be different and make kickass sandwiches. You'd like me for about a day before you got sick of me hanging around, my low-brow poorness, the age barrier, my so-called ignorance. Men like you are always on the lookout for some young person who just so happens to be an old soul. I'm not an old soul, Vlad."

Vlad's grip became so tight it was brutal, though Danny did not cry out.

"Is that what you'd really think of me? That I'd just dump you the moment you became an inconvenience?"

"It's happened before," said Danny dully. Vlad closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"At the very least, let me help you be safe. If I can't have you, at least let me protect you. If those imbeciles realize just who exactly you're associated with, they won't dare lay a finger on you again."

"I doubt it."

"Trust me. Please."

Danny looked doubtful. "If I let you do that, that leaves you free to call in favors, and I-"

"I don't mean to do anything of the sort," said Vlad sincerely. "Don't give up your dream, Daniel, and don't put yourself at risk. I'll start coming to escort you to and from work. School. Practice. If school is so terrible, perhaps we can see about getting you transferred."

"Vlad..."

"Just trust me." Vlad raised Danny's hand to his lips again, and the boy smiled awkwardly but warmly.

"I give it about a day and a half."

"I will enjoy proving you wrong." The lips skimmed up Danny's fingers, past his wrist, to his forehead again. "Just how old are you, Daniel?"

"Sixteen."

_Just two years._..."I don't suppose you'd...if you would, hypothetically, be so kind as to give me an opportunity...would you be willing to wait for me?"

Danny pressed his forehead against Vlad's shoulder and smiled.

"I think hypothetical-me would be pretty cool with that hypothetical outcome," he said gently, feeling Vlad's arms wrap around him again.

"Hopefully, rather than a hypothetical, it'll be a definite."

* * *

**And that's a wrap. Any of you disappointed? No hot yaoi or sweet goo or wedding bells? *Shrugs* You can't always get what you want is probably not a bad moral for this story. Danny's not being heartless, he's being practical. Too many people allow themselves to get carried away with fledging feelings and wind up regretting it for the rest of their lives. With any luck, Vlad can be patient and perhaps these two have a good chance of surviving the odss. I may write a fic about that one day...**

**Adieu, my lovelings! Please review!**


End file.
